


Wherever You Will Go

by dromexa



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, Slow Burn, Swearing, i hate this and i'm writing it, like seriously i don't think you guys have any idea how slow, non-canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:27:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24738421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dromexa/pseuds/dromexa
Summary: After their first meeting, they go their separate ways. Alyssa remembers the words Mama Murphy spoke to her. Maxson remembers Alyssa.
Relationships: Arthur Maxson/Female Sole Survivor
Comments: 10
Kudos: 20





	1. Train of Thought

**Author's Note:**

> Listened to a song and decided I needed to write this. Enjoy!

Sister?

Is that what she was now? It had been a while since she’d considered anyone family. Not after the vault.

Damn right the road has been difficult. What had it been, a year? First the vault, then Concord… after the snowball effect of the Minutemen, she’d run into the Railroad entirely by chance. Decided to go looting in the old church, figured that it might have some books, maybe a little wine, which was becoming a habit recently.

Probably not living up to any grand expectations this guy has of her. She’d helped Danse and his team out that one time from ferals. Occasionally, if she was in the area and needed to stop, she would go and see the Cambridge crew once in a while. She always brought something shiny with wires for Haylen, and told Rhys about those place he'd tipped her off to so when she came across them she was prepared for the big fights.Honestly, she didn't think the report Danse told her he'd written would be anything special. She’d seen a few ghouls near the Abernathy’s, sure, but _that_?

Terrifying. Every minute of that had been a nightmare. If it hadn’t been for Dogmeat, she’d probably be dead. Using only a 10mm pistol against fast and deadly; there was no way that girl would survive the Institute. After ArcJet, that was something she was sure of. Everything she’d heard, everything she’d seen, had led her to the inevitable conclusion that there was one ending to this little adventure fate seemed to have stuck her on. She wasn't like Danse who could apparently be set on _fire_ by a _rocket engine_ and survive. 

She’d barely survived Kellog after all. After seeing the Prydwen arriving, with all the vertibirds, and everything that reminded her about how the way things _used to be_ , she’d limped her way to Cambridge with Nick. When they were on their way she’d picked up the radio signal from Danse, and that had cemented the idea. 

_Fate_.

Dangerous thing fate. Mama Murphy has spouted something of the like when they’d first met, and now she couldn’t shake the thought. She’d never considered herself to be particularly religious, but the way everything seemed like chaos but would then end up in these neat little boxes…

Like the synths. H2-22… but it was better that she didn’t think about him anymore. He was living his life. She’d asked Desdemona if she would consider keeping synths somewhere in the Commonwealth, perhaps in her settlements. There was a safehouse established from that conversation, where escaped synths could slip in and out as needed, but she didn’t think the synths should _have_ to run to the ends of the earth and hide. The terror the Institute inspired in them, there was no doubt in her mind that they were exactly what he called them… a cancer.

But how could the synths be the world’s undoing? The ones who ran, who made it out? If anything, they would be the reason the Institute fell, if they manage that. She knows their stories, though the information is frustratingly limited. Surely it is not them, but those pulling the strings, who are the real enemy here.

And honestly, it was unlikely that the Institute could do anything to the scale of what had happened that day; especially not if she had anything to do with it.

But what was the harm in the synths? She really couldn’t comprehend the horror in someone being exactly like them but not in the same way. Whilst it may not have been right to create them and force them into submission with some programming, that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t have the right to make their own decisions. Every time she met a synth that wasn’t shooting her, they were… normal. When given the choice through hard times, humanity will revert to what is comfortable. It was doubtful that would ever be world domination based on the way that the Institute handled them.

If she could have been standing far below them, firmly on the ground, that would have made _her_ comfortable. This wall was probably the only thing keeping her upright. Of course she had to fly in a death machine to get to the larger death bomb that she'd seen children running around on. Although, somehow, this was more terrifying than ghouls, and that was something she didn't think was possible.

Extinction though? Perhaps that was a tad far. She gave him props after all; he did give a good speech. Extremely inspiring. Bit too heavy on the xenophobia for her liking, but she could work with it. After all, she didn’t entirely agree with the fact that the Minutemen didn’t get paid. They showed up and if people _wanted_ to thank them they might pass them a few caps, but other than that they risked their lives for nothing short of a possibility of a good world. They deserved better than that.

They deserved to _live_ in a good world.

And how right he was. Humanity really was its own worst enemy. Always more than willing to think the worst, to prepare for the negative possibility, creating distrust within everything. She’d heard a lot about the Brotherhood from her friends. MacCready had some choice words, as did Deacon and Piper. The words ‘tin cans’ and ‘bucket heads’ had been thrown around quite often, although the latter was mostly uttered by Strong, and she didn’t particularly think he was addressing anything other than what they looked like. She’d heard him say the same thing of those raiders who’d scavenged that horrible contraption of a suit. But then, once Deacon heard the mutant's description of the soldiers, it immediately became his favourite descriptor for the many, _many_ stories he told about them.

But she’d seen men like this before. Her husband had been one of them. Men in power who believe it’s their mission to make sure other people don’t kill themselves, or others. Not all of them wanted to push the button, but the paranoia and suspicion caused them to collect all the danger and the bad and keep it away from those they didn't believe were worthy of its use. Eventually though, no matter how long it takes, that button will be pressed again and everything they worked for will blow up in their face.

Literally. Even Rome burned, and it's probably happened even more at this point if they got nuked too.

Yeah… this was going to be tricky.

She was a little slow on the salute, completely forgetting where she was for a moment. What made her suddenly snap straight up from the wall, where she was probably getting evil side glares from the other soldiers for her apparent complete disrespect of authority, was him. She may have zoned out slightly but she could still see him. Throughout his speech he’d been pacing, gesturing with his hands in an impassioned fit of… something. Pride? It was hard to put her finger on it. But as soon as he’d finished, as soon as he spoken their battle-cry, his eyes were on her.

She pretty much slammed her fist into her chest, probably giving herself a hefty bruise that a Stimpak would need to take care of later, and managed to repeat the words back.

“Ad Victorium.”

All the others in the room began to file out. She would have turned to follow, to go find Danse, but his gaze hadn’t moved. She was engaged in a staring contest with this… man in a large, and quite frankly extremely comfortable looking coat. She _really_ wanted the coat. It was damn cold up here in this tin can in the sky. She’d never really bought into that description of the Brotherhood, but this was a step too far.

“Initiate.”

She’d heard him speak mere moments ago, had repeated his final words back to him. But with the absence of every other person in the room something had changed. He wasn’t giving a speech, toting some spiel about those bad synths and the real problem. He was speaking to _her. A_ s she looked at him, wearing that ridiculous coat that made him look like a giant, she realised she liked that voice. That stare. She already knew she liked the _coat_. She liked _him_.

_Fuck_.

This really was going to be tricky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope it wasn't toooooooo disjointed idk. Hope you liked, hope you read the next one if I ever write it. Kudos if you know the song. Not a plea, just a play on words.  
> Okay bye <3


	2. The Caboose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The other side of the coin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please take this chapter and enjoy

When she’d walked in, it may have been the first time he’d truly doubted Danse’s word. Sure, he’d heard the story of how Danse’s team had been cornered by ferals at the police station, that there seemed to be no hope, what with Rhys down and the rest of their team dead. And then, in the middle of it all, a woman with nothing more than a 10mm pistol and her dog had burst into the courtyard and given them the edge to push back. That, after it all, she’d not even hesitated when they had asked for help. How she’d helped Danse make his way through ArcJet Systems, fighting a horde of synths on the way. Helping to complete the mission despite having no reason to do so, no loyalty to the Brotherhood.

He’d been impressed with Danse’s report, but of course he had to verify the story. He’d spoken to Scribe Haylen who sung the stranger’s praises. After ArcJet, she’d apparently brought back various technological artifacts that she’d picked up on her travels. What had really impressed the Scribe was how these were in excellent condition – much better than what their trained Scribes brought back from the field. Haylen’s official assessment had been that the newcomer would be an asset to them, and he was inclined to agree.

Knight Rhys had… a different opinion. From what Arthur could tell, he’d been passing on information about local mutant and feral hotspot activity. Whilst he wasn’t quite sure if he was telling her to avoid it, or something else, each time she had returned the threats had been neutralised. Acted as though it was nothing big that she had done. Rhys didn’t trust her, that much was clear. It wasn’t that Arthur didn’t mistrust the young Knight, but had decided to reserve his judgement for when he actually met her.

And there she was. It was obvious it was her. She was leaning up against the wall behind her, very obviously not standing to attention like the others on the command deck. Her outfit was all black, with shadowed armour, and a tricorn hat. Not that he could see much of her under all the weapons she was carrying; a pistol holstered on each thigh, a sawed-off shotgun on each hip, and a rifle resting on her back which barely fit above... a sword? If that was everything that she was _showing_ he wondered what other weapons she had squirreled away. It made for a strange combination, sure; but he’d seen strange things before. In his experience, most vault dwellers had a few marbles loose.

But then he looked at her face. She wasn’t looking at him, but gazing somewhere into the middle distance between them. He carried on talking, having practiced this speech many times in his quarters on the Prydwen’s long journey from the Capitol Wasteland, but he also watched her. Only in his peripherals of course; he was always careful.

First she looked… upset? That was replaced as quick as a flash when a light, humourless chuckle escaped her lips. He continued, and saw a range of emotions play across her features; incredulity, defeat… and then _hope_.

Smiling to himself, Arthur continued his diatribe on the nature of the Institute. He liked the way hope looked on her. Always striving to inspire others, Arthur thought that someone who believed in what they were fighting for were far more effective than those who didn’t. But then, something else crossed her face.

Confusion.

Then, hatred.

And, finally, determination.

Feeling as though he were on uncertain footing, as her reactions were not at all similar to the others around her, he began to gesture in an attempt to convey that they _would_ stop this threat, that _nothing_ would get in their way; not if he had anything to do with it.

That was when he realised that she was _listening_. Not like the others; of course they could hear him. But to most, the words of Arthur Maxson, prodigal final son of the Maxson line… they accepted without question. The legend of him was enough, the _soul forged in eternal_ _steel_ proof that his way was the right way. Of course, that didn’t apply to everyone as he’d seen the same expression on others; Quinlan, Cade, Ingram and Kells. Hell, even Scribe Neriah had worn it once or twice in his company. That was something he truly respected of them; their ability to see past his name, his unasked for heritage, and focus on his words and his plans. Although he wouldn’t always include Quinlan in that group; after all, he _had_ read that biography he had been working on. Slightly too hero-worship for his tastes. But, they all had one thing in common.

They treated _him_ like a _normal_ _man_.

Once he’d finished speaking, and barked out a firm, “Ad Victorium,” Arthur focused his eyes on her. And, like a magnet he’d once seen Scribe Rothchild use in his youth, her eyes locked on his.

She may have been a little behind the others in her salute, but she made up for it in enthusiasm. From the noise her fist made against her breastplate, he’d venture that she was wearing combat armour. Could leave one hell of a bruise if she wasn’t careful.

As everyone began to file out of the command deck, he kept his eyes on her. After all, he knew what vault dwellers could be like, with their sneaky and tricky ways of coming out on top in every situation. Once the others had left, he knew he should say something. The only problem was that he didn’t know what to say.

Here she was, this vault dweller, who had been an incalculable help to them before even considering becoming a part of the Brotherhood. He doubted she’d even known who the Brotherhood were when she’d helped Danse’s team at the police station. She reminded him of the Lone Wanderer, back when Sarah and Owen had still lived. He remembered how Sarah had loved the idea of being able to go into the river after it had been cleaned of radiation. He thought about the way the Lone Wanderer had done whatever it took to find their father, and the determination he saw every time he came across them. It was the same look on her face now.

So, he fell back on to what was comfortable; his training, the chain of command, and his authority as the commander of his vessel.

“Initiate.”

It was only one word, but he noticed how her eyes went wide and finally broke contact from his stare. He watched as they darted all over him, quick as a deathclaw, before she returned to his gaze. Perhaps he’d thought wrong, and she was just as susceptible to the legends of him as the others. Maybe she just had a blatant disregard for his authority, and she hadn’t been listening at all.

And then, just when he’d thought he knew where he stood and what his impression of her was, she swallowed. He eyed the line of her throat, traced the curve of her jaw. Thankfully he caught himself before his gaze could make it to her lips. When he returned to her eyes, he saw almost everything he’d hated seeing when he’d been speaking; her fear, her confusion, her sadness. He didn’t like it. He tried to remember the hope in her eyes, but the memory slipped through his fingers like water.

It was then he decided he would do anything just to see that hope again.

_Fuck_.

This might get a little complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks!! <3


	3. Promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please enjoy this unimaginative titled chapter that took me two days to write!! <3

“I care about them, you know.”

He’d had to turn away; facing her was rendering him incapable of speaking, so now he stood by the window. Looking out upon the ruins of what was once Boston, he gripped the bar beneath him and willed himself to remain level-headed. He _needed_ this to go right, didn’t know what he would do if she laughed in his face at the offer he was planning on presenting to her. Staying perfectly still, he waited. Then, after what seemed like several lifetimes, she cleared her throat and stepped up alongside him. He watched as she rested her hand on the metal bar too, but where he gripped it with an iron vice, her fingers tapped a restless rhythm. Nervous? There was nothing he could think of that she had to be nervous about, but then he imagined how the Lone Wanderer would have felt about the Prydwen after living in the vault their entire lives.

Actually… probably not much. They had been remarkably unflappable.

“I can tell.” Her voice was soft, almost imperceptibly quiet. Fingers still tapping away on the bar, her lips turned up in a small smile. “It’s good that you care about those under your command.”

Arthur blinked; that wasn’t what he meant. She’d mistaken his words and thought he meant his crew. Before he could formulate a proper response, his mouth kicked into autopilot.

“I didn’t mean them.” At that, she turned to face him, brow furrowed slightly in confusion. Shit, he didn’t mean it like _that_.

“Oh. Well…

“Not that I don’t care about them.” When she merely blinked at him, he continued, “The crew, that is. Of course, there’s those in Cambridge as well; I believe I have you to thank for their well-being.”

Well, fuck him sideways with a gatling laser… was she _blushing_?

“It was nothing really, I was just glad to help.” Yes, she was _definitely_ blushing. Humble in the face of her achievements? There was no way he was leaving this conversation unscathed, but it wouldn’t do for _her_ to leave thinking that she wasn’t worthy of praise.

“Nonsense. If it weren’t for your intervention, their team would have been overwhelmed. If you hadn’t accompanied Paladin Danse to ArcJet and assisted him in the fight against the synths, they wouldn’t have been able to inform us of the threat. From what I’ve heard, you often assist Scribe Haylen with her research, and Knight Rhys has mentioned that you have proven more than capable in combat situations – “

At her sudden snort, Arthur stopped and stared, eyebrows raised. She giggled again and covered her mouth with her hand.

“Oh god, I’m sorry, I just – “ Another giggle escaped, causing the corners of Arthur’s mouth to twitch as he tried desperately not to laugh along with her. “I just find it hard to believe Rhys saying _any_ of that. Did he really say that?”

Arthur was stumped. He’d never had anyone question him like this, mostly because nobody really cared all that much about something specific someone had said. Somehow, despite how he felt his brain was barely functioning, he managed to reply.

“Perhaps not in those… specific words, but – “

“So he didn’t say it?”

His head was going to explode. It would understandably be a tragic end for the last of the Maxson line, but it seemed this is what fate has thrown his way. Determined to retain at least some dignity, he clasped his hands behind his back and stood up straight.

“It’s not about what he said. It’s about the impression you gave.”

“Well, he never seems to be overly impressed with me at the best of times, so please accept my apologies if I find it hard to believe anything he told you would paint me in a positive manner.”

It wasn’t like he could tell her she was wrong. Rhys _hadn’t_ said anything particularly nice about her, but one of Arthur’s talents was being able to separate someone’s emotions from the information they gave. Whilst he hadn’t been _trying_ to give the Elder a good impression of the newcomer, he still _had_.

“Knight Rhys can be…”

“Grumpy? Angry?” She let out a sharp laugh, “He could probably star in a Disney film about dwarves.”

He had no idea what the last part meant, but it was a rather accurate description of the Knight.

“He finds it hard to put his trust in people.”

Laughing once again, she simply said, “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

After that, Arthur wasn’t entirely sure what to say. The conversation had gone completely off track, right from the get-go in fact, and he was struggling to find a way to steer it back in the right direction when she surprised him again.

“So who _did_ you mean?”

Maybe his head exploding wouldn’t be completely abhorrent. It would end the conversation sooner than he anticipated it would.

“Who do I _mean_?”

She blinked at him, seemingly confused as well.

“That you cared about?”

“Ah, yes.” Perfect. Right where they started. Now that they seemed to have cleared up the confusion, perhaps this whole situation could still be salvaged. He gestured to the ruins of the city, “The people of the Commonwealth.”

Unfortunately, it seemed fate was determined to kill him today, as her confusion only deepened.

“Why?”

Arthur didn’t think he’d had to answer this many questions in his life after completing his education at the Citadel. He’d begun hoping his head _would_ explode.

“Why do I care about the people of the Commonwealth?” He needed to make sure he knew exactly what her question was, not willing to risk another misunderstanding.

“Yes. I don’t see any reason why you would.”

That made it official. If his head exploded right now, it would be a welcome reprieve from the absurdity of this woman. He hoped Quinlan would include it in his little biography.

“Why do you think that?” Maybe if he could figure out how she thought about… well, _everything_ , it would be easier to talk to her.

“You’ve never been to the Commonwealth, is that correct?”

Perhaps if he answered her questions, he’d get a better sense of how to speak with her.

“No, I have not.”

“And have you ever met anyone from the Commonwealth.?”

Frowning, he replied, “I’ve met you.”

“I wouldn’t qualify that as meeting someone from the Commonwealth.” Every word she said, everything made less sense. “I just don’t see how you could truly care for a group of people you’ve never met.”

Was she having a philosophical debate he didn’t know he was participating in? He couldn’t think of an explanation for her question, so he decided to just push forward.

“Whether or not you can _see_ it proves nothing,” When she bristled, he hurried out, “As someone who clearly cares a lot for this region, and those within it, I can understand your need to interrogate me on the Brotherhood’s motives. It’s an admirable quality.”

Once again, the blush rose in her cheeks. It seemed that she didn’t know how to react when confronted with her achievements. Just for the sake of outlining how her help had been invaluable to the Brotherhood, and not at all related to how her flush had begun to creep down her neck, Maxson continued.

“The mark of a good leader is the ability to recognise a potential threat.”

At this, her eyes narrowed, and he mentally berated himself once again. He really hoped that, at some point, he might be able to say the right thing,

“Are you?”

“Am I a threat?”

“Yes.”

“Not to you.” Those were probably the most truthful words he’d spoken since she’d stepped up to the window with him. She was speechless for a moment, laughing out an awkward huff whilst running her hand through her hair. After gazing out at the skyline for a handful of moments, she turned back to him with her hands resting on her hips.

“Whilst I do appreciate that, I’m not sure the citizens of the Commonwealth would be reassured in the same way.”

Turning once again to the bay of windows, Arthur gripped the bar whilst his gaze roamed over the city before him. Only one thought was running through his mind; she felt _reassured_ by him. It likely wasn’t the takeaway he was meant to get from her words, so he took a deep breath and thought about the people below.

He couldn’t imagine they had ever seen something so technologically advanced as the Prydwen, with the exception of the synths of course. From the reconnaissance intelligence that had been presented to him about this place, he had learned that the citizens were understandably terrified of the Institute. This group had been terrorising these people for decades; kidnappings, razing settlements to the ground, hoarding resources, and that was only what they _knew_ about. He imagined living a life of fear because of them, the helplessness in the wake of an enemy so insurmountably powerful, and what he would feel if something similar arrived. If he had no knowledge of the Codex, of the moral compass that guided the Brotherhood and their actions, he could understand the hesitation those down below would have in choosing to trust them.

But trust didn’t start from nothing. It started with one person.

“I, Arthur Maxson, Elder of the East Coast chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel, mean no harm to the citizens of the Commonwealth.” Once again, straightening, he clasped his hands behind his back to feel the authority in himself as he leant it to another. “If any one of the soldiers under my command causes you, or any others, a reason to question this, I request to be informed. It shall be dealt with… _personally_.”

He watched as a grin slowly spread across her lips, as her eyes darted up and down his body… as the flush crept ever downwards.

“My, my. Elder Arthur Maxson… you certainly know how to say the right thing.”

Uncontrollably, he felt the heat of his face flare up as a blush crept upon him. The way she’d thrown his full title back at him… He thought he’d liked the smile on her face; it was nothing in comparison to the way her lips wrapped around his name. Gripping his hands tighter behind him, he cleared his throat and tried to reclaim the feeling of authority he had grasped at before this has started.

“Well, I try to be as forthcoming as possible when it comes to my intentions.”

His momentary mortification at the double entendre of his words was slightly relieved by the beautiful smile on her face. He hoped to see that many more times in the future.

“Thank you, Elder. I appreciate your… honesty.”

For what felt like the hundredth time, his words failed him. He couldn’t figure her out. Instead, he took a moment to simply observe her; eyes glittering with mirth, the pink blush slowly working further down to her chest. He liked her like this. He hoped desperately that his next offer would not extinguish this light in her.

“Now that we have become properly acquainted, I would like to officially promote you to the rank of Knight. With this rank, we will provide you with your own suit of power armour for use on the battlefield. I hope you’ll wear it with pride.”

If he’d thought her smile was beautiful before, the dazzling one she wore now took his breath away. After the way the whole conversation had been going, this outcome far exceeded his expectations.

“I’m… a Knight? Wow… It’s like I’m in some kind of fairytale.”She chuckled to herself, sounding wistful. It made Arthur smile.

“Most are more impressed with the power armour.”

She laughed once again, music to his ears. “I guess, but I’ve never been a huge fan of power armour. Not enough manoeuvrability. But, thank you all the same.”

“You’re more than welcome. Now, you should go acquaint yourself with the ship, as well as the crew. Once you’ve done that, you’ll receive your first mission.”

And that was when her smile faded. Her throat bobbed up and down in trepidation, and he saw the unease in her eyes as they flitted between his own and the buildings outside the window.

“Actually, sir… I have something I need to take care of. A personal matter.” He thought he saw tears beginning to form in her eyes, but she blinked and they were gone. “It shouldn’t take too long.”

He hated this already. Moments ago, she had been laughing; she’d been happy. But it wasn’t like he could say no. If what he’d heard from Danse was true, there was no way he could order her to stay. So, there was only one option.

“Of course. If you need any assistance, just contact the ship using your Pip-Boy. Quote the number on these,” Pulling the newly-minted dog tags from an inside pocket of his coat, he dangled them in the space between them, “and we will help in whatever way we can.”

As she studied the dog-tags before her, once again her eyes bore the traces of tears. But, as before, she blinked and they were gone, instead replaced with a small smile.

“Thank you.”

When she held her hand out, he lowered them into her palm, unwittingly closing his hand around hers. She was warm, very warm, and the brush of her skin was soft. When her eyes lifted to his, round and glittering, he let go and raised his fist over his heart. Somehow, he managed not to choke on his next words.

“Ad Victorium, Knight.”

Smile growing wider, she lifted the dog-tags over her head, before inspecting them curiously. Then she lifted her hand to her chest in their salute. There was less gusto this time, but Arthur felt that this time, somehow, it meant _more._

“Ad Victorium, Elder.”

And then he watched as she left the Prydwen, with no idea when he would see her again.

He hated it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading guys, hope you liked it! <3


	4. Precipice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alyssa heads to Goodneighbour after her meeting aboard the Prydwen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait guys, hope you like this! <3

When Alyssa finally left the Prydwen, and had touched down at the remnants of Boston Airport, it took everything in her not to throw herself from the vertibird and kiss the ground. Instead, she hopped down and flashed a quick salute, heading for the stairs into the compound the Brotherhood had already managed to erect. She felt a breeze from the left and followed it, ending up next to the sea. No guards were there, and it didn’t even look as though they’d bothered to lock the door. She shrugged and decided to keep walking; having two feet back on the ground had sharpened her up considerably.

Then, the events of the day caught up on her; she’d just murdered the man who’d killed her husband, walked halfway across the Commonwealth to catch a vertibird to a floating battle ship and had been promoted to a soldier of rank within their organisation. Checking the map on her Pip-Boy, Alyssa tried to figure out the quickest way to get to Goodneighbour. Catching a ride to the other side of Boston in five minutes had seemed a good idea at the time; instead what laid ahead was basically open space where enemies would have a clean line of sight. Nick had left her at the Cambridge Police Station with a promise to meet her at the Memory Den, and his eyes saw shit she could barely see twenty feet in front of her. What she needed was a fast way to Goodneighbour without getting shot.

Alyssa paused briefly and looked back at the airport, watching the vertibird's rise and fall away from the great balloon above them.

Then she looked at the sea. If she wanted a nice dose of radiation poisoning, she could always swim there; then it was just a matter of getting through the throngs of super mutants who always seemed to drift to that particular part of the city, but that could get tricky if she took on too many rads. She patted down her pack and sighed in relief when she found a bottle of Rad-X that still had a few pills rattling around in the bottom. After taking one, she made her way over to the shoreline and waded in, waiting until she was barely touching the sand before kicking off and swimming in earnest.

Well, at least she wouldn’t be in a vertibird.

Despite the fact that the water was just as irradiated as the rest of her former home, swimming was still one of her favourite things to do. For one thing, if she had tried this before the bombs had fallen she probably would have been arrested. In a strange way, like how most things were these days, it was something that made her feel free. Although, most people thought swimming anywhere now was a terrible idea, and often preferred to walk the whole way round instead. Obviously she would never ask Nick to swim somewhere, on account of him probably short-circuiting if he so much as dipped a toe in it. Codsworth wasn’t a fan either, understandably, but Curie had grown to enjoy it post-transfer. In fact, she was probably the only one who didn't moan at the prospect, unlike some certain mercenaries she knew, but he tended to shut up when you gave him a silenced .50 caliber sniper rifle made out of toy rocket ships and telephone screws. Not to mention, swimming was a great way to exercise. It didn’t put nearly as much pressure on your joints as you would if you were, say, running from a group of raiders. But that didn’t really apply; Alyssa never ran from anything anymore.

As she swam closer, she saw the little pier sticking out from the edge of the city. There was one in the shack by the edge of the water, two by the dock, and another by the shed who would occasionally look out in the wide expanse of the ocean. Thankfully, she hadn’t been spotted so far. Hopefully, luck would continue to work in her favour. She may not be a betting woman, but there was a good chance she could swim right past them; it wasn’t like they had the greatest attention span, and even if they did they couldn’t catch her.

Then she spotted the hound. There was no way she could out-swim _that_. Those fuckers were slippery enough on land, never mind in open water. An unbidden image of a shark with the head of a mutant hound entered Alyssa’s mind, and she pushed away the image with a shudder. That was enough of that; the little bastard was the first that needed to go.

Alyssa lifted her arms over her head as slowly as possible, kicking her legs just enough to keep her afloat, and grabbed the rifle from her back. She took a moment to silently thank Sturges, who had helped her create a hydro-phobic coating for her things. Most people had called it a waste of time, but right now it was the best thing the man had ever done for her.

She raised the scope to her eye and waited, letting herself adjust to the waves carrying her, as well as giving her time to familiarise herself with her targets and get a lock on them. Moving back to the hound, Alyssa took a few deep breaths to steady herself; then, when the head lined up with her sights, she took the shot, and what had once been its face exploded.

Reloading the chamber, she took aim once again. The mutants were looking around them, clearly unsure of where the bullet had come from and trying to figure it out. Before they took another step, a cloud of red mist erupted as another one fell to the ground. She managed to get the next one in the shoulder, but when his eyes squinted in her direction she knew her position had been given away, so she made sure the next one went through his eye.

The mutant in the shack stuck his arm around the wall and fired in her general direction. The bullets sprayed through the water a little too close for comfort, but he was firing wildly, so she settled for a shot in the thumb. She chuckled to herself as the mutant fell back with a shriek of pain, and turned her attention to the one other mutant remaining.

“Stop! Hiding!”

He was yelling at her, winging a sledgehammer around in her general direction. She was probably a bad person for laughing at the scene, but then she fired a shot between his eyes and figured that was probably relative these days anyway.

The last mutant was still in the shack, probably waiting for her to come to him. It wasn’t a bad plan really, for a mutant at least. Silently, Alyssa slipped her sniper back into its usual spot, sinking below the waves. She made her way over to the dock, and came up for air underneath so she wouldn’t be spotted. As she peered through the surprisingly stable planks, she saw the mutant was now holding a missile launcher.

Well… that was going to be a problem. Alyssa might be able to dodge it, but she didn’t have enough faith in her ability to survive a missile to the face if that didn’t pan out well. She needed all her appendages, thank you very much. She considered a stealth boy, but she’d used her last one at Fort Hagan and hadn’t had the time to restock. Then she thought about sticking the barrel of her sniper through the wooden planks… sure, it wasn’t a _great_ plan, but dire situations called for bad ideas. Pondering on how she would even line up the shot, she absent-mindedly flicked a life preserver as it bobbed along.

Then she had an even worse idea.

The mutant’s head turned sharply when he heard a low whistle. Grumbling to himself about “puny humans”, he let his heavy feet carry him over to the dock. He looked around, but nobody was there. Then, a flash of movement caught his eye, and he hopped down onto the boards with a resounding crash. When he got to the edge of the dock, he saw something round and orange floating out from underneath – definitely not a puny human.

“Shame. Wanted a fight.”

The last thing he heard before two shotgun blasts erupted from beneath him, ripping his legs from his torso, was a high-pitched giggle.

Yeah, she was _definitely_ a bad person.

Alyssa hauled herself out of the cold bite of the sea and made the usual rounds on the bodies, taking everything since there were only two categories; something she needed or something she could sell. By this point, the sun was sitting at the height of its arc, so she stuck close to the buildings as she continued on, diving through any alleys she could find. Before long, she was striding up to the gates of Goodneighbour, the slightly damp clothes the only clue as to her impromptu dip. She pushed the gate open and smiled; it felt like home.

Of course, it looked nothing like she remembered, but it didn’t bother her terribly anymore. Now there was Daisy and K-LEO in their little shops, who she waved to when she passed by, the Neighbourhood Watch who she nodded to as she strained to hear a few notes of Magnolias dulcet tones through the open door of the Third Rail. She stopped in front of the Memory Den, but shook her head; Kellogg’s brain – if you could call it that anymore – may have been burning a proverbial hole in her pocket, but she felt like shit and a shower would solve all her most immediate problems. So, turning on her heel, she headed for the Rexford to get a room. As one of the few places in the Commonwealth that actually had warm running water, she was more than willing to pass her caps over to Clair.

After climbing the stairs and making her way into her room for the night, Alyssa dropped everything to the floor and made a beeline for the bathroom. Shucking off her weapons, armour, and clothes was a task in and of itself, so that water had warmed up to just-above-tepid by the time she’d fully stripped. While it might not be as hot as pre-war showers, it felt like a dream raining down on her. It was rare she got a quiet moment to herself, and she intended to enjoy it while she could. Letting the water flow through her hair and down, Alyssa’s body moved on auto-pilot while her mind slowly wandered.

Inevitably, her thoughts turned to her son; Shaun. Words couldn’t describe the hope she’d felt, how her heart had ached, when Dogmeat her led her and Nick to Fort Hagan. Nick had thought they should regroup for a spell, but she hadn’t listened of course; if her baby was in there with a monster, she wouldn’t stop until he was in her arms. She’d found a way in past the turrets, the synths, and shot down anything and everything that had been in her way, almost feral by the time they had finally confronted Kellogg. When he’d stood there and told her how she’d never find her boy, _gloated_ about how untouchable the Institute really was it had been the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Rage had overtaken her in entirety.

When Kellogg had activated the stealth boy, she’d responded in kind, taking the time to cover Nick with the synths whilst looking for the tell-tale shimmer that meant the mercenary was moving. Eventually she’d seen it, but he’d seen her first, and put a bullet in her shoulder. But when he eventually rippled back into view, he’d been distracted enough trying to activate another and she’d taken the opportunity to run at him and knock him to the ground. Their scuffle had been a close-call, and if it hadn’t been for her knives he probably would have ended up strangling her to death, but even a well-trained merc like him couldn’t deny that hands were hard to use after the tendons had been sliced through. He came at her, again and again, and every time it was almost enough to take her down for good, but her fury wouldn’t let her and she wore him down, bit by bit, until she finally managed to blow his head open with her shotgun. It may have taken a while, but it had been over too soon – she’d wanted to _savour_ it.

She’d combed through the computers, and found nothing helpful in the slightest. It had been Nick who, observing the corpse with a disdainful curl of the lip, had seen the shiny plastic embedded in Kellogg’s brain. Then, as she stared down at the plastic hardware, her hope had given way to despair. Nick had taken her by the hand, sat her down and administered more than a few Stimpaks and doses of Med-X, before leading her to the elevator. All the while he had been telling her how Doctor Amari was a miracle worker in neurology, and that she was their best shot at finding out anything about Shaun or the Institute from the remnants of Kellogg’s brain. Even so, she couldn’t find it in her to care. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him since he _had_ gotten her this far, likely further than she would have gotten alone. But the fact was it had been a _year_ ; A long, gruelling, seemingly never-ending year. Just when she’d thought she would finally be able to hold her baby once more, have him beside her right where he belonged, the game of cat and mouse had turned again. This wasn’t her world, her time, but it _did_ seem to be her breaking point.

If it hadn’t been for that damn ship, she’d probably still be moping through the Commonwealth with Nick. He hadn’t been overly thrilled with the Prydwen figuratively rolling onto the scene with all guns ablaze, even less so with her idea of joining up with the Brotherhood in any capacity, which she couldn’t exactly blame him for since they were liable to shoot first and ask questions later. But, he had respected her decision and escorted her to the Cambridge Police Station, where Danse had told her about the great Elder Maxson who wanted to brief her personally on the Prydwen which was criminally close to Goodneighbour at that point. She’d be the first to admit that part of what drew her in was curiosity, but she was also tired of walking _everywhere_. She’d thought that, if it saved her a two day trek, she might just be able to handle a quick vertibird trip. She convinced herself that there was no way it would be as terrifying to fly in one in this day and age. Once she’d set foot in it though, with no way of going back, and she’d deeply regretted it. But this was the new world, and damn it if she was going to throw up over the side of a vertibird after surviving the literal apocalypse thus far.

And then they’d actually gotten to the big fucking blimp

She’d asked Danse all about it, of course; how was this possible, what did they use to keep it in the air, and did he know just how explosive hydrogen really was? He’d been rather happy to tell her all about the Prydwen until her last question, at which point he mumbled a few half-hearted words about the Prydwen not being a ‘battle ship’, and the conversation has been interrupted by their arrival at the ship itself. He’d then left her to the mercy of Lancer-Captain Kells, which she considered a cowardly move and would remember the next time she saw him. Kells had grilled her about her ‘intentions’, and his attempt at taking her down a peg or two just wasn’t necessary – she’d already been having a shit day, she didn’t exactly need others adding to it. But, agreeing with him had seemed the safest option, and he’d been satisfied enough to point her towards the briefing on the Command Deck.

And then there he was; Elder Arthur Maxson. She hadn’t known much about him, and it wasn’t like she’d wanted to. After hearing his speech, Alyssa had thought it would be a miracle if she could get off the ship without inciting some type of riot for causing an argument with the Brotherhood’s leader. It turned out she was right about the argument; it must have been the lawyer in her, nothing at all to do with the low rumble of his voice or the way he stood in that stupidly comfortable coat. Considering everything she’d heard about the Brotherhood before their big arrival, she was somewhat surprised that their leader had been so… amiable. He’d agreed that no citizen would be harmed, although that had been an unexpected tangent which she wasn’t entirely sure how it had been brought up in the first place, and had seemed intent on making her jump from the bow of the ship with embarrassment by listing all the ways she had helped the Cambridge crew before their big blimp had arrived as back-up. Of course, he’d looked perpetually angry for most of their conversation, but she would swear on Mama Murphy’s chair that she’d seen his mouth twitch at least once during her incessant rambling. She decided not to read too much into that though – he probably just had no idea what to say to someone who just couldn’t shut the fuck up. Then he’d shown her the dog tags, and she’d almost cried right in front of him. When he’d given them to her, the touch of his calloused hands on hers for the briefest of moments had engulfed her completely. Suddenly, it didn’t matter that she was standing in the belly of a highly explosive ship floating hundreds of feet off the ground. Then, when she’d heard the echo of Mama Murphy’s words in her head, her breath had all but escaped her reach.

“There was a suit of steel and energy standing with you. Not always close by, but always there. Another one is waiting. The journey is hard, but the fear will fade.”

It had been all she could do to salute him and walk out on shaking legs. She tried not to put too much stock into Mama Murphy’s visions, even though they always ended up true one way or another, but that one had hit a little too close to home. Besides, she’d probably only thought of it because they were the Brother _of Steel_. She could easily apply it to one of those super people films she used to watch when the world still had cinema.

She touched the tags where they rested between her breasts, and smiled at the memory of Nate it brought; him walking into the bar she’d been working at while she worked on her law degree, how much he’d grown up since they’d last seen each other, how short his hair was, the glint of the tags he wore proudly over his t-shirt. Over the last year, it had been harder to keep a picture of him in her head, one from before the vault, before her last memory of him frozen in death. Rubbing the cold metal in her fingers, she pictured his smile, his happiness, and how that had been taken away from her; how the people who had taken that from her had taken her son too.

The water pouring over her had started to cool, so she turned off the shower and wrapped herself in a towel before walking out into the bedroom. Alyssa began pulling her clothes back on, passing over her armour in favour of her pistols and knives. This might be Goodneighbour, where she was more than welcome, but she wasn’t a complete idiot. Then, shaking her hair out, she left the room and locked it behind her before heading over to the Memory Den.

It was time to find out what that son of a bitch knew about the Institute, and her son. The cold metal by her heart reminded her of Nate, their son, and her mission to get him back at any cost.

It’s not like it could get any worse than what it already was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay i may have totally made up a mama murphy vision but come on what did u expect?!
> 
> thank you for reading, hope you enjoy it <3


	5. Red Strings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow so uh... 6 months... long time no see! Sorry if anyone was actually yknow... waiting for this haha. Honestly I had a bit of a block with getting them where they need to be from the last chapter, but we're nearly there so hopefully it won't take another six months for another chapter haha. Kinda getting back into it now so fingers crossed! Please accept this chapter as a humble offering and my sincerest apologies. Thanks for reading, love u xoxo

It had been over a week.

“Elder?”

Arthur blinked; he had completely lost focus of the conversation that he and Lancer-Captain Kells had been having. He cleared his throat, trying to recall what had been said... something about setting up a new outpost?

“My apologies, Kells. Where will the outpost be located?”

Arthur caught the reflection of the man, as well as the incredulous blink that was directed toward his back, in the windows of the command deck. He watched as Kells set his shoulders and replied, “The edge of the Glowing Sea, Elder. Our scribes have gathered intelligence on the area and believe there are locations of possible interest to the Brotherhood. Having a base of operations close by would assist our soldiers in their efforts to canvass the area for any sweep and retrieves we can identify.”

Right. If he remembered the reports he’d been recently perusing correctly, there had been several military bases in that area. Any technology that was present in such locations could prove invaluable in their mission against the Institute. Having the outpost there as a touch-point for any excursions into the perilous territory would be an important resource, and it would be imperative that there were no issues hindering their progress.

“Of course. Any requests from them should be treated as a priority at this time, until we can confirm they have an adequate position established. Have they managed to make contact with any of the sites of interest?”

Kells shook his head in answer, “Not as of yet, Elder. They have been focused on building the base, but once that has been completed they should be ready to head out.”

“And how many are on site?”

“Twelve, Elder.”

Twelve soldiers. They had more guarding the food at the airport for goodness sake. He would need daily updates to ensure that they were able to operate at maximum efficiency.

“Thank you, Kells. Keep me updated on the situation. Is there anything else that requires my attention?”

Again, Kells shook his head, “Not at the moment, Elder.”

“Very well. Dismissed.”

Kells quietly retreated after his salute, leaving Arthur alone. Once again, like so many times in the few days past, his gaze wandered the ruins of a once great city in front of him. Perhaps she was right in front of him, invisible to the naked eye, but still there. Or had she gone further afield? He recalled from one of Danse’s earlier reports that she regularly visited a settlement to the northwest of the Commonwealth, that she had made her home there after leaving her Vault. Perhaps she was there; after all, she had said it was personal business.

He was probably over-reacting, the nervous tension that had been thrumming through his body since her departure more likely to be run-of-the-mill concern for a new Brotherhood soldier. She was his responsibility now she was Knight, after all. In the event that something happened to her, it would weigh on his shoulders, as would be the same if anyone under his command was injured or killed in the line of duty. As with all the other soldiers, he needed to keep faith in her skills. If Danse’s reports were be to believed, and there was certainly none he trusted more than the Paladin, then she was a veritable waste-land terror, more than capable of handling herself for a quick trip home and back.

Running his fingers through his beard, breaking the slight tangles with gentle tugs, he began to wonder if he was experiencing this sense of anxiety because he’d not had his feet on solid ground since leaving the Capitol Wasteland. Spending day in and day out aboard the Prydwen was a significant deviation from his usual routine, even if it had only been about three weeks since they took flight. Maybe a change of scenery would be enough to quell this restlessness that had fallen upon him.

A slow smile began to creep upon his lips as he realised that Kells had given him the perfect opportunity to abscond the ship. Not only would this be a good chance to stretch his legs, he would be able to fully evaluate the scope of the resources that the outpost needed and ensure that they received them. He strode from the room and down the stairs into Kells’ domain down below, seeing the pilots stand to attention before resuming their tasks.

“Kells, prepare a vertibird for take-off, and alert Paladin Danse his presence will be required.”

Whilst Kells was respectful enough of Arthur’s authority to not question him in front of the others, the brief crease of his brows was enough to let Arthur know the sudden and unexpected request had him baffled.

“Of course Elder. What is the purpose of the journey?”

***

If Alyssa hadn’t already killed the bastard, she would have smashed Kellog’s head in with a sledgehammer. But, only after she'd had a big nap, a nice hot bowl of stew… and maybe another smaller nap.

She was just so _tired_. Maybe it was that she had been endlessly walking through a green fog for days on end now, or the fact she hadn’t eaten any solid food since last night, or even the _many_ stingwings she’d fought with increasing anger and aggravation on her travels, but this shit was starting to get exhausting. In fact, if she never saw another stingwing in her life, she could die a happy woman.

Those little hellspawns hurt like a motherfucker.

But, hopefully, this was all coming to an end. Virgil had been surprisingly helpful, despite his initial distrust of her and his… _affliction_. So, now all she had to do was kill a courser. Piece of cake. It wasn’t as though they were the Institute’s highly specialised, terrifyingly well trained, super robot killer assassins that inspired fear within the legendary likes of Glory or anything. Fantastic. She could hardly wait. It was the only thing that kept her slowly trudging forward, determined to make it out of this hellscape. If she could survive this, she could survive a courser. If she could survive a courser, she could survive the dreaded molecular relay that was next on the list, and so on ad infinitum.

She hadn’t really thought this Glowing Sea plan through all that well – after the deep-dive into Kellog’s memories, she’d been a bit rattled to say the least. Probably not the best time to go running off on a half-baked, half-cocked journey into the most irradiated real estate the Commonwealth had to offer. Although, reliving the murder of your husband and the kidnapping of your only child, which helpfully came with the dry commentary of the very man who had committed those acts, would have that kind of effect. Combine that with Nick have a pseudo-Kellog riding around in his brain for who knew how long, and she’d never given a second thought to waltzing through the Glowing Sea in nothing more than a gas mask and an old wetsuit underneath her regular clothes. Alone. She might have had the foresight to stock up on the radiation medication, but even those were beginning to dwindle.

Speaking of which, she lifted up the edge of her mask slightly, managing to slip a Rad-X pill onto her tongue and dry-swallowing around the tasty morsel. A cursory glance at her Pip-Boy showed that her radiation levels were getting pretty high, but there didn’t seem to be a safe haven nearby so she could stop and take a refreshing dose of RadAway. When she clicked over to her map, she estimated that she had about a mile left before she was once again breathing fresh air.

In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t even that far. She could do that. Twice.

She cast a wary eye around her, hoping to whatever deities that might have survived the Great War that she could escape with no more problematic encounters. In fact, she would go back to the old traditions of sacrificial worship if she managed to leave without sighting another stingwing. Satisfied that she was alone for the moment, she continued on; looking up for blue skies and glancing down for rocks and bones to trip on. As she went, stumbling slightly as her vision began to blur at the edges, a pair of dark eyes poking out from a jagged cliff of rocky terrain in the distance escaped her notice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI I have no idea how long its meant to take to fly the Prydwen from the Capitol Wasteland to the Commonwealth, so i google mapped the distance between Washington and Boston, and then googled how fast a blimp could go, and then just kinda snowballed it, my estimate is at just over a week. I don't know if thats right but, whatever right?
> 
> Thanks for reading this, sorry it took so long! xoxo


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